


Matchmaker, Matchmaker

by rosegoldroman



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21890893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegoldroman/pseuds/rosegoldroman
Summary: Two separate friendgroups come together to get their hopefully pining friends together. What could go wrong?(Everything. Everything could go wrong.)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders & Deceit Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Comments: 27
Kudos: 254
Collections: Sanders Sides Secret Santa 2019





	Matchmaker, Matchmaker

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for this fic: just general remus content, yknow the drill, and Swearing™
> 
> to my giftee: I hope you enjoy! I tried to fit in as many of your prompts as I could; I hope I did okay! Happy holidays, fam-ily <3

Lunchtime was starting to feel like a broken record.

Remus _hated_ broken records. Where was the fun in something repeating, endlessly, each time just as _boring_ as the last? He thrived in chaos, spontaneity; he never wanted to know what was coming next. He missed the days when lunchtime meant a full hour of throwing quips back and forth with his brother, or planning pranks with Patton, or seeing how surreptitiously he could throw food across the cafeteria without anyone noticing, or — _anything_ but this. _Anything_ but listening to Roman _whine_ over the newest object of his affections.

Logan Christie. Straight-A student, head of the debate club, _every_ teacher’s pet — basically, a massive fucking _nerd._ Remus didn’t understand the appeal. A man who followed every rule — nay, who practically _worshipped_ rules? B to the _oring._

“Look at him,” Roman sighed, for maybe the tenth time that period, his head propped up in his hand and his eyes half-lidded and dopey. Logan sat on the other side of the cafeteria, a book in one hand and a spoonful of jelly in the other, his expression half-amused and half-annoyed as he watched his friend rant about something.

“Woo-hoo, I’ve looked,” Remus said with a roll of his eyes. “Now would _you_ look at this? My mashed potatoes are _totally_ penis-shaped, I —”

“Why don’t you just go up and talk to him?” Patton suggested, interrupting Remus with all the practiced ease of someone who had known him since childhood. Roman gasped.

“What, like we’re _friends?”_ He shook his head, running a hand through his stupidly perfect hair. “Patton. Dear, sweet, innocent Patton. You don’t understand the rules of this game. I cannot simply _talk_ to him! That’s — that —”

“Aw, what, are you _scared?”_ Remus asked, leaning across the table with a taunting grin. “I could go talk to him for you, if you —”

“ _NO!”_ Roman yelled, loud enough that half the cafeteria went silent, a thousand eyes staring his way. He sank down in his seat until only half his face was visible above the table, his cheeks a deep, burning red. “No. Absolutely not.”

“You’re no _fun,”_ Remus groaned, sagging across the table. “I’ll put in a good word for you!”

“Oh, _good,_ thank you,” Roman said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “A recommendation from one of the worst problem students this school has ever seen, yeah, he’ll _love_ that.”

“The _worst?”_ Remus placed a hand over his chest, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. He beamed. “Roman, do you really mean that? I’m the _worst?_ That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me!”

Roman reached across the table and whacked him on the arm. Remus whacked back. As war broke out, Patton giggled into his hands. “Y’know, kiddo, the worst he could do is say no,” he pointed out, when the two brothers had stopped slapping at each other.

 _“Exactly!”_ Roman cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “I would never recover from such rejection! My poor heart yearns for his attention, but fears it all the same! Alas, I am doomed to pine for eternity!”

He fell sideways, draping himself across Patton with an over-dramatic sigh. Patton patted the top of his head.

“At least then you’d _know,”_ Remus said, leaning across the table to steal Roman’s fries while he wasn’t looking. “I mean, how can you stand all this _pining?_ It’s gross! And I _know_ gross. Just _talk_ to him. If he rejects you, yeah, you’ll be a little bitch about it for a while, but you’ll recover. You always do. And if he _does_ like you, then you’re good to go. Either way, you’ll _survive.”_

Patton blinked. “Remus, that was… surprisingly comforting. You —”

“Hey, d’ya think if I shoved this far enough up my nose, I could reach my brain?” Remus asked, pushing a french fry up his nostril. Patton sighed.

“I…” Roman sat back up, resuming his position: head propped up, eyes half-lidded, cheeks dusted with a faint blush as he stared at Logan. “I could never do that. I mean, just… _look_ at him.”

And thus, the cycle began anew. Remus really, _really_ hated broken records.

* * *

Virgil didn’t understand how someone so _smart_ could be so overwhelmingly _stupid._

It was like clockwork. Every day, Logan took up his post at the back of the lunchroom, a book in his hands — not to read, never to read; it was there to hide his face as he stared across the cafeteria at one of the most _annoying_ students at their school. Roman Kingsley, the theatre kid from hell, a man with an ego so overinflated Virgil was surprised he hadn’t popped.

Logan _loathed_ emotions. They were icky, useless things in his opinion; he treated them as though they were the plague, as though one smile could kill him on the spot. Which was why it was so surprising when, after being forced to attend the latest school play — his sister was in the orchestra — he came out with a wide smile on his face, his cheeks dusted with pink.

Black was white, up was down, the world was coming to an end — and Logan Christie, emotionphobe extraordinaire, was _pining._ And oh, he’d taken to it like a duck to water. Thus, his vigil, every day at lunch: his face half-hidden, he’d stare and stare at Roman for as long as he felt was proper, and then even longer still, sighing and smiling and blushing the whole period away.

And sure, yeah, Virgil supported him. It was nice to see him passionate about something other than his studies. He just wished Logan wasn’t so _dumb_ when it came to love.

“Why don’t you, I dunno, _talk_ to him?” he suggested, after the fifth ramble that day about Roman’s eyes. His _eyes._ Virgil was at his wit’s end.

“Oh _no,_ heaven _forbid,”_ Dorian piped in from across the table, a hand thrown daintily over his mouth in faux-shock. “He can’t _face_ his feelings! Something _good_ might come of it, and we can’t have _that.”_

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated, Dorian,” Logan said, never tearing his gaze from Roman. “I understand that — oh, oh god, he _looked at me —”_

He ducked down behind his book, his cheeks bright red. Dorian and Virgil shared A Look. “Do you think he saw me?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Dorian said. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“He totally did, dude. You should go explain yourself.”

Logan closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath through his nose. “I cannot,” he said, after a long pause. “I understand that it is illogical to be unable to just… _talk_ to him, but — his very existence renders me speechless. The thought of confronting that…”

“Is terrifying, I know,” Virgil finished for him, nudging Logan’s arm. “I get it, L. Talking to people in general is nasty, even when there’s no _romance_ involved. But you’re gonna drive yourself mad over this. You need to just… do it. Rip it off like a band-aid.”

Dorian hummed in agreement. “If _Mr. Hypocrite_ over here is advocating for you to face your feelings, you know things have become dire.”

“Your _mom_ is dire,” Virgil shot back.

Dorian gasped, placing both hands against his chest, a single tear rolling down his cheek. “I don’t have a mother!” he said, his voice cracking. “She was lost at sea when I was but a baby, leaving me a poor, helpless orphan, living on the streets —”

“I have literally met your mother,” Virgil said, voice flat.

“Have you?” Dorian studied his fingernails.

“Yes!” Virgil threw his hands up in the air. “We don’t have time for this, dipshit! Logan is _broken.”_

“I assure you, I am not broken,” Logan said, peeking around the edge of his book. Across the lunchroom, Roman traded blows with his twin brother while their friend giggled into his hands. “I am simply… not functioning at my usual level. I — I cannot _focus,_ I have the strangest feeling in my stomach.”

“Ah, yes, the butterflies in your tummy,” Dorian said with a roll of his eyes. Logan blinked.

“I have not ingested any butterflies.”

“Are you sure?” Dorian asked. “You know, the average person eats up to 100 butterflies in their lifetime. It’s true. Don’t look it up.”

“Nah,” Virgil said, waving a hand through the air dismissively. “That’s an outdated statistic. Butterflies Georg, who lives in a cave and eats 10,000 butterflies a day, is an outlier and should not have been counted.”

Logan stared at them for a moment. “… I don’t know where you two are getting these statistics from, but I don’t believe you’ve consulted any trustworthy sources. Regardless, this feeling is most likely a symptom of the anxiety I feel over confronting Roman. It has nothing to do with _butterflies.”_

Virgil caught Dorian’s eyes. The corners of his lips twitched. A moment passed, and then they were both laughing, Virgil clutching his stomach as tears threatened to spill. Logan made an indignant squawk and a new wave of giggles almost sent Virgil falling out of his chair.

“Why are you _laughing?”_ Logan asked, looking very affronted. Virgil struggled to regain control of his breathing.

“It’s — you’re just —” He wiped at his eyes. “God, I love you, L.”

Logan blinked. “This is a very confusing conversation,” he said. “No matter. You know that I… care deeply for you as well, Virgil. And you, Dorian, regardless of how obnoxious you are.”

Dorian gasped in mock offense. _“’ Obnoxious?’”_

Logan continued, cutting off what was certainly going to be a very long, very dramatic spiel. “I appreciate you both trying to help. Logically speaking, what you’re saying makes sense. I simply… cannot bring myself to follow through with it.”

“Look, you know me,” Virgil said. “I know what it’s like to deal with anxiety, _especially_ anxiety over talking to people. In any other situation, I’d just tell you to run like hell, yknow?”

“Or punch the object of your affections in the face,” Dorian suggested. “It’s _fight_ or flight, correct?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Running won’t cause any problems,” he said, with a pointed glare. _“Punching_ is almost guaranteed to cause problems.”

“Debatable.”

“Shut up.” Virgil turned back to Logan with a sigh. “Logan, it’s been _weeks._ Obviously, you’re not just gonna forget about this guy. Running isn’t gonna solve anything.”

“You tend to need cold, hard evidence in order to believe something, right?” Dorian asked.

“In… most cases, yes,” Logan said.

“Great. Only way to get that shit in this situation is to just, go up to him and tell him how you feel,” Virgil continued. “You get a ‘no,’ great, at least you’ll _know._ And if you get a yes…”

“Then we’ll start planning the wedding right away,” Dorian said with a teasing smirk. “It will take place mid-autumn —”

Virgil leaned across the table to whack him on the head. “You need to get answers,” he said, barely flinching as Dorian whacked him right back.

Logan sucked in a long, deep breath. Then, he nodded, his face hardening. “You’re right. I — _he looked again —”_ He ducked back down behind his book with a very un-Logan-like squeak, and Virgil sighed, catching Dorian’s eyes.

Something had to change. Logan couldn’t go on like this; he wasn’t built for pining. And if he wasn’t going to change it himself…

Virgil’s gaze slid to Roman’s twin brother and his friend. Maybe it was time they took matters into their own hands.

* * *

“You’re probably wondering why I’ve gathered you all here.”

Virgil stood at the front of an old, unused classroom, glancing around at the other three individuals he’d invited inside. Normally, the thought of speaking in front of a group like this would have him running for the hills — but this was for Logan. And, more importantly, for Virgil’s own sanity. If he had to hear _one_ more rant about Roman’s eyes, or his voice, or his hair… he’d snap.

“Oh, _no,”_ Dorian said, not even glancing up from his homework, “why would anyone want to know why you’ve trapped us all in this creepy, abandoned classroom?”

“I’m gonna be honest here,” Roman’s twin brother Remus piped up, eyes alight with glee. “When you first invited me in here, I totally thought you were gonna murder me.”

“And you still came?” Dorian asked, raising an eyebrow,

“Well, yeah!” He grinned. “Who _doesn’t_ wanna get involved in a little murder? It’s so _kinky —”_

“You, shut up,” Virgil said, eyes narrowing. “And _you,_ shut up too. You already know why we’re here, I told you earlier.”

“Mm,” Dorian hummed, “did you? I don’t recall.”

“Why are we here, kiddo?” Roman’s friend Patton asked. He was the tiniest, softest person Virgil had ever seen, but somehow he exuded more powerful _Dad_ energy than any adult he’d ever met. He’d called Virgil _‘kiddo’_ three times since they’d arrived.

“I’m not gonna mince words here,” Virgil said. “Our friend Logan is _hopelessly_ in love with your dork Roman —”

“Ohmygosh, _really?”_ Patton squealed. He started whacking Remus on the arm, bouncing with excitement. “We were right! It isn’t one-sided!”

Remus whooped with joy. “I _knew_ it!” I could see that nerd making _bedroom eyes_ at Ro from across the cafeteria.”

“Ew,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes.

“Also, just so ya know, _dork_ means _whale penis,”_ Remus continued, “so you just called Roman a whale penis —”

 _“Ew,”_ Virgil said again, more forcefully. Remus snorted. _“Anyway._ I’m sick of it.”

“Logan refuses to even _talk_ to Roman,” Dorian said.

“And Roman won’t talk to Logan,” Patton agreed with a soft sigh.

“Exactly. They’re both pining dumbasses.” Virgil shook his head. “If they’d just _confront_ each other, we wouldn’t have to listen to the two of them _yearn_ all the time.

“Ugh, I’m so _sick_ of the yearning,” Remus groaned.

Patton made an uncertain noise in the back of his throat. “I think it’s cute,” he said with a shrug. “Are you… saying we should play matchmaker?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Virgil said, nodding sharply. “They just need a little push. If they’re not gonna get their shit together on their own, we gotta get it together for them.”

“Ooh, sounds fun!” Remus said, leaning back so far in his chair that Virgil wondered how he hadn’t already fallen. “Should we try the ol’ _lock-em-in-a-closet-together_ ploy?”

“Because that’s not cliche at all,” Dorian said, raising an eyebrow.

Remus did overexcited jazz hands. “it’s cliche because it works, Deedee!”

_“Deedee?”_

Virgil snorted at the offended look on Dorian’s face. “Yeah, _Deedee,”_ he purred, and Remus beamed as Dorian flipped them both off. “But nah, we’re gonna bench that one for later. I was thinking something a bit more low-key.”

Patton pursed his lips in thought. “Maybe we could… swap their phones? They’ll have to talk when they return them to each other, right?”

“Logan has two passwords on his phone, and he hasn’t even changed his lockscreen from the default,” Dorian said. “The odds of Roman realizing that it’s Logan’s phone are slim to none. It’ll just end up in the lost and found.”

“You might be onto something, though,” Virgil said, eyes narrowing in thought. Swapping the phones would be too obvious, but… “What if we just put their numbers in each other’s phones?”

“That… could work,” Dorian said, eyebrows raised. Remus nodded enthusiastically.

“It’ll get ‘em talking without the pressure of speaking face-to-face,” Patton said, with dawning excitement, “so they’re both comfortable, and then they can meet up whenever they’re ready with an already-established relationship!”

“All we gotta do is sneak their phones while they aren’t looking and add the numbers!” Remus grinned. “You’re gonna havta do the honors, Pasty. Roman doesn’t trust me with his phone anymore.”

“I don’t blame him,” Patton said.

“I don’t either!”

Patton turned away, biting his lip. “I dunno if I can,” he said. “I don’t wanna lie to Ro.”

“It’s for the greater good,” Dorian said, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, do you really want them to stay _pining_ forever?” Remus asked, sticking his tongue out. “It’s _gross.”_

Patton sighed. “I… I _do_ want to help them. And it’s not _too_ big of a lie, I guess. Can someone give me Logan’s number?”

“Come here,” Dorian offered, pulling out his phone. “You can give me Roman’s as well. And yours, too, perhaps?”

Virgil had never seen a person turn red so quickly. He half-expected Patton to burst into flames on the spot. He glanced at Dorian — who was blinking slowly, like a fucking _cat,_ his lips quirked into a smirk. Good. _Great._ Now Dorian was lovesick too.

At least he was immune to such things.

“Here!” Remus said, jumping to his feet. “Virge, Virge, let’s trade numbers too! You can text me the tea tonight.”

Virgil blinked up at Remus — who towered above him, and _really,_ how was that fair? Tall people were his weakness —

Nope. Nope, that train of thought wasn’t even going to leave the station. “Uh, sure,” he said, taking Remus’ phone. As he typed in his number, he addressed the room. “So, uh. Patton, Dorian, you take Roman and Logan’s phones at the first opportunity and put in the numbers. Patton, text Logan from Roman’s phone as soon as you’re in.”

Patton nodded solemnly. “I won’t let you down!”

“In the meantime, um.” Virgil waved his hands awkwardly. “Meeting over. Go back to your own shit.”

And thus, the first (and hopefully, only) meeting of the Roman and Logan are Dumbasses club came to an end.

* * *

The plan was set. Everything had fallen into place. Now, the only thing to do was wait.

Virgil said at the lunch table and pretended to be invested in something on his phone. In truth, every bit of his attention was focused on Logan. He listened for the telltale _ding_ of Logan’s text tone, watched for Logan’s reaction out of the corner of his eye, primed and ready to see Logan’s endless pining finally come to an end.

_Ding!_

There it was. Logan lowered his book and picked up his phone, his brow lifting. Across the cafeteria, Remus shot Virgil a subtle thumbs-up, and Virgil nodded imperceptibly. “That’s strange,” Logan said.

“What?” Dorian asked, the very epitome of nonchalance. Logan shrugged.

“I received a text from an unfamiliar number,” he said. “It was probably just a mistake.”

And — to Virgil and Dorian’s great horror — Logan put his phone back down and continued to read.

Across the cafeteria, Remus dropped his head down onto the table and groaned.

* * *

“How did we not see that coming?” Virgil ranted, throwing his hands up in the air. The next day found them all back in the abandoned classroom yet again, bemoaning their first failure. Virgil paced back and forth and back and forth, deep in thought. “Of _course_ he wouldn’t respond to it. He’s _Logan.”_

“We should’ve upped the intrigue,” Dorian said, his face buried in his hands. “We all know how well he can resist a mystery. _‘I know your greatest secret,’_ _that_ would’ve works. Not _‘hey.’”_

“Hey, now, antagonizing him is not the way to go about this,” Patton said.

“We need to get them to talk face to face,” Virgil said, foot tapping anxiously against the floor. “Texting isn’t gonna work.”

“It can’t be an interaction either can run from,” Dorian added, nodding thoughtfully. “It has to be forced.”

“But how do we do that?” Virgil asked, slumping down into a chair. Silence fell over the room for a long moment, buzzing with frustration, and then —

“I’ve got it!” Remus shouted suddenly, jumping to his feet. “Pat! Patsy! D’you think you could get your daddy to partner them up in class?”

“Oh!” Patton’s face lit up. “Yeah, I think so!”

“Your _what now,”_ Dorian asked, his nose wrinkled. Patton sighed, shaking his head.

“My _dad,”_ he said. “Dr. Picani, the psych teacher. Logan and Roman are both in his class.”

“He’s your _father?”_ Dorian exclaimed. “I have been in that class for a _year —_ how did I not —”

Virgil sat up, holding up a hand to cut Dorian off. “That… could work. Patton?”

“It’ll work,” Patton said, nodding.

* * *

Patton talked to his dad that night — and, to his great surprise, he actually agreed! By the time the next class rolled around, Dr. Picani had set up a small project for his students to do in class, and Logan and Roman found themselves paired up, drawn from their little corners — Logan at the front of the room, beside the bookshelf, and Roman in the back, at a desk covered in doodles — to a table in the middle of the room.

Patton sat at his own table, excitement fluttering in his chest as he watched the two have their first real conversation. Oh, it was just so exciting! The look on Roman’s face when Dad revealed the partners just made Patton feel all warm inside; he looked so happy! A little scared, too, but he marched off to his battle with all the bravery Patton knew he had, and now he and Logan were _talking_ , and! It was just so exciting!

Next to him, Dorian sighed. His phone — embedded in a hole cut right into the pages of his textbook — lit up every other second with notifications from the groupchat they’d made. Patton wished he had the guts to pull out his own phone; he was too scared of getting scolded, even by his own dad.

Dorian did not have that fear. “Rules were made to be broken,” he’d told Patton over text, the first night they’d talked, and he seemed to live by that. Patton didn’t really know what to think of him.

He caught Patton staring at him and quirked a brow, his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Like what you see?”

And he was also a huge flirt, so.

Patton turned away, blushing bright red, and focused instead on Logan and Roman. Logan was writing something down, talking the whole time; Patton couldn’t quite read Roman’s expression, but he looked… awed, almost? Starstruck? That was good, right?

… Why was Roman leaving the table?

Why was Logan going back to his desk?

Roman stomped back to his desk and slammed the paper down. “He gave me a list,” he hissed in Patton’s ear, a _list_ of things to do for the project, and then he _walked away._ Can you believe that?”

Patton closed his eyes, counted to ten, and pretended he didn’t feel like screaming.

* * *

The logical progression from that point would be for Roman and Logan — or, in the very least, Roman — to cease their pining and return to their usual lives, as one tends to do when someone they admire greatly proves themself to be, for lack of a better word, an ass.

But that’s not how this story will progress, because Roman and Logan — as much as they’ll protest otherwise — are not logical people.

Instead, Virgil, Dorian, Patton and Remus found themselves yet again in that abandoned classroom no less than three days after their last meeting. Frustration buzzed through the air like a thousand angry wasps. The wasp nest — also known as Virgil — paced back and forth at the front of the classroom.

“You’re gonna run a groove into the carpet,” Remus pointed out, sitting upside down at a desk and balancing a pencil on his top lip. Virgil bit back a growl.

“I am _this close,”_ he said, holding up his hand and touching two of his fingers together, _“this_ _close_ to snapping. If I have to hear _one more_ rant about how _pretty_ Roman’s _eyes_ are, I’;; — I — I dunno what I’ll do, but it’ll be horrible!”

“Yes!” Remus exclaimed, pencil flying as he twisted in his seat. “I know how to hide a body, babes, lemme help!”

Virgil stared at Remus for a long, long moment — eyes caught in his grin, his crinkled nose, his sparkling brown-green-hazel eyes — and then turned away, shaking his head. _Babes?_

“Now, c’mon, there’s no need to resort to _violence,”_ Patton said, all puffed up like a stern, fatherly pufferfish as he watched their exchange. “I think we all need to take a gentler approach with this, kiddos.”

“How so?” Dorian asked.

“Well… I dunno,” Patton said, “but I think we’ve been going about this all wrong! The texting thing didn’t work because they didn’t even know who the other was, and the project thing was too high-stress of a scenario. Not a good first meeting, if you ask me.”

Virgil leaned against the wall. “True,” he said. “Plus, Logan goes _all-business_ the moment anything academic is involved.”

“Mm,” Deceit hummed. “Remember the time he threatened to stop talking to me when I distracted him from his homework? That was fun.”

“God, he’s so _boring,”_ Remus groaned, more of a tangle of limbs in his seat than a human person by that point. Virgil wondered how he’d gotten so flexible. “I mean, _really,_ what does Roman see in him? He’s probably gonna be a _business major.”_

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, Roman’s an egotistical d-bag, but you don’t hear _us_ complaining.”

Remus fell out of his chair. A heap of laughing limbs on the floor, he gazed up at Virgil as though he had just made his entire year. “You’re right!” he said.

“Hey!” Stop being mean!” Roman whacked Remus on the head, and Virgil backed up several steps, holding up his hands. “Roman can be a bit boisterous sometimes, sure, but he’s kind and supportive and strong and wonderful and amazing and —”

“Are you sure _you’re_ not in love with him?” Dorian asked, casually studying his fingernails. Virgil snorted at the stream of flustered noises Patton made.

“No! I just really appreciate my friends!” he said, eyes narrowing. “I appreciate you all just as much!”

“Ew,” Virgil, Remus, and Dorian all said at the same time. Patton puffed up again, pursing his lips.

“I will physically fight you all,” he whispered.

“Kinky!” Remus exclaimed, as Virgil blinked in confusion and Dorian laughed.

“No one’s fighting!” Virgil said, as Remus and Patton started making faces at each other. Honestly, dealing with this group was like herding cats, and he was allergic to cats. “Patton. You have a lot to say about what we’re doing _wrong._ Do you have any other ideas?”

“Well…” Patton tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I think we need to be a bit more… straightforward? We gotta get ‘em talking, but not under any false pretenses, yknow? No _wrong numbers_ or _school projects,_ just… an honest conversation.”

Dorian made a disgusted face. “They’re not going to have an _honest_ conversation,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Not without a lot of prompting, at least.”

“I still think we should just shove ‘em in a closet,” Remus said, waving his hands through the air. “Nine times outta ten, ya shove people in a closet and they come out fucking! It works.”

“...Lovely,” Dorian said, his lips pressed into a thin line. Remus grinned.

“It _is,_ isn’t it?”

Virgil bit his lip, thinking. “I mean…” he started, eyes narrowed in thought. “Maybe he’s got a point?”

Remus whooped with joy. “Yes! Finally, someone’s on _my_ side!”

Patton pursed his lips. “That’s sorta the exact _opposite_ of a ‘gentler approach,’ guys.”

“So?” Virgil asked. “They’ve got it _bad_ for each other, Patton. They need a kick in the ass. We lock them in an empty classroom, get them to talk for a bit, and then at _least_ we’ll all have closure.”

“We know Logan won’t have any problem with being locked in,” Dorian said. “He uses empty classrooms to study all the time. Do you two think Roman would have any adverse reactions?”

“Nah! He won’t care,” Remus said. “I used to lock him in closets all the time when we were kids, he’s used to it.”

“...He’d be okay,” Patton said, after a moment’s hesitation. “He won’t exactly be _happy_ about it at first, but…”

“It’s a plan, then,” Virgil said, nodding. “Dorian, Patton, you think you can handle luring them there?”

Dorian smirked. “It would be my pleasure,” he said. “Patton?”

Patton, his cheeks dusted with light pink, stared at Dorian for a moment. Then he shrugged.

“Good. I’ll leave the planning to you two, then,” Virgil said, watching their exchange with a knowing smirk. He was never going to let Dorian live his little crush down. “We’ll use the classroom connected to the old teacher’s lounge. That way, two of us can hang inside the lounge and listen to make sure they don’t panic or whatever. If they start freaking out, we’ll let them out immediately.”

“I’ll hang in the lounge with you!” Remus offered, grinning brightly. Virgil quirked a brow.

“Sure, whatever,” he said with a shrug, ignoring the way his heart skipped a few beats. Remus’ grin grew and Virgil looked away, clearing his throat. “Y’all understand your jobs? Good. Let’s finish this shit.”

* * *

Logan sighed to himself as he entered the empty classroom, eyes scanning the bare room. His lips pressed into a thin line. As he’d expected, there wasn’t a person in sight — certainly not the entirety of the debate team, as the voice over the school intercom had promised earlier that day, a distinctly familiar smooth tone.

He heard a soft _shushing_ from the connected teacher’s lounge, and a fond smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Really, could they be any more obvious?

He turned as another figure entered the room, his breath catching in his throat. No matter how many times he saw him — on stage, in class, everywhere and anywhere — the sight of Roman Kingsley would always be enough to take his breath away. He had just opened his mouth to say something when —

With a deafening _slam,_ the door behind Roman shut, and a distinct _click_ suggested that it had ben locked. Roman, his mouth blown open in shock, turned to back his fists against the locked door. “Hey!” he called. “What the hell?”

Logan glanced at the teachers’ lounge, raising an eyebrow. “Roman,” he said, “I believe we are being pranked.”

Roman gasped, eyes widening. “Pranked? Why?” he asked, glancing around the room as if searching for hidden cameras. “What kind of _prank_ is just, locking two people in a room togeth — _oh.”_

“Oh,” Logan agreed, nodding. “It is rather cliche, isn’t it?”

“Right?” A jumbled laugh fell from Roman’s lips. “As if locking two people together would _actually_ make them, yknow, confess their _love_ for each other.”

He trailed off with another nervous chuckle, running his hand along the inner fabric of his jacket, back and forth and back again. Logan watched the movement, the waves of pure _anxiety_ that radiated from it, and wondered, not for the first time, how Roman had become such a good actor.

“I agree,” Logan said. His heeled boot clacked against the tile floor; the sound echoed through the room. “I hardly need such _theatricality_ in order to confess my feelings for someone.”

“Exactly!” Roman said. “Like, I love me some theatricality, but even _I_ agree this is a bit much.”

“Mhm,” Logan hummed, and the corners of Roman’s mouth twitched, “especially considering we are already dating.”

Logan took great pride in what followed. There was a muffled _thump_ from the teachers’ lounge, as though someone had collapsed to the ground. Outside of the classroom door, a distinctly familiar voice yelled several swears in quick succession.

Roman laughed into the back of his hand. The sound was akin to bells, or birdsong. Logan looked at his boyfriend of roughly a week — ever since a hint of curiosity had prompted him to respond to that mysterious text after all — and smiled.

Roman smiled back. “Yeah, you’d have to be a real _idiot_ to _not_ realize we’ve been dating for a while now,” he said, and a stream of hissed sweaters erupted from the teachers lounge. “So, my dear, what do you want to do until they decide to unlock the door?”

Logan took another step forward. “I have some ideas.”

* * *

As the two figures pushed together in a gentle kiss, Virgil fell to the floor, his eyes wide and haunted. Remus laid flat on his back, his mouth open in a silent scream. They locked eyes, and Virgil knew there was only one thing to say.

“What the _fuck.”_


End file.
